Bottom of the River
by Semblance of Sanity
Summary: In which Tom Riddle Sr. was the wizard, Merope the Muggle, and she makes a sacrifice that breaks her heart. Inspired by 'Bottom of the River,' by Delta Rae.


_I. The Box_

_The good Lord speaks like a rolling thunder_

_Let that fever make the water rise_

_And let the river run dry_

She had underestimated the depth of Tom's obsession with her since the beginning, and it was an easy mistake, because he mainly stared and blushed.

Looking back now, she couldn't remember anything between leaning into the well to draw up water, and waking up at the home she apparently shared with him. He was very sorry, he had said, but he had accidentally tripped her while she was making dinner, and she had hit her head on the table.

He had cleaned the blood, he said, but her head would hurt for a while.

They had been married last year, he said, and she had a nice ring to prove it.

He loved her and she loved him too, he said. And she thought she did, so everything made sense. They had always been this way, he said, and she believed him.

Looking back now, she didn't love him. She could remember _being _in love with him, almost as one would remember that they were once ill, but it didn't feel like her.

She cried when he stopped giving her the potion; her emotions came rushing back, and her head wouldn't stop pounding.

Amidst his apologetic fretting, he was called away for a work emergency. And she found his box on the shelf. Spells, strange creatures, witchcraft, _love potions_. She _cried, _because she knew, even then, what this would cost her.

Her husband, the man she had loved unwillingly for years, the father of her child - this man was a demon, a worshipper of Lucifer.

He must be put to death.

"Mama, what's wrong?" Her son's voice startled her, and the ladder wobbled and swayed beneath her. She heard his screams as she fell to the ground.

But she landed on a pile of feather pillows. As she looked up into his startled brown eyes, her heart broke for the last time.

_II. The River_

_The Lord's gonna come for your first born son_

_His hair's on fire and his heart is burning_

_Go to the river where the water runs_

_Wash him deep where the tides are turning_

"Mama, I'm cold. Can I come out now?"

"You'll get used to it," Merope said as she tied her dress up around her waist. Tommy tried to say something else, but his teeth were chattering too hard. Merope cursed the sharp wind. She waded into the river. The water _was_ cold. No matter, this would soon be over.

She touched his hair and caressed his cheek as he looked up at her, his beautiful brown eyes so trusting. Oh, she loved him, this child that was the result of deception and witchcraft. She _must_ do this, _must_ protect the town.

"Mommy loves you," she whispered, and shoved his head under the water. He was limp for a while, waiting for her to pull him back up. His eyes were squeezed shut on his pale little face, almost glowing in the green water. His tiny hands held her wrists tight, and Merope felt the hollow pit in her chest before she felt the tears roll down her cheeks.

He started to tap on her wrists, his legs kicking a little. _Pull me up, Mama. Pull me up! _"I can't, I can't..."

His eyes shot open, wide and frightened, and he started hitting her. Merope held on to her resolution and her son as he thrashed beneath her. Only a little longer...

He screamed, and Merope was suddenly flying out of the river and into the willow tree. She fell to the ground, blood dripping from her head, and little Tommy collapsed on the bank coughing and crying as he held his stomach.

"Mama," he whimpered, crawling on all fours to her. "Mama." He poked at the cut on her head with wide eyes. Merope pushed herself to her feet and launched herself at him, kneeling over his body in the more shallow water. His eyes were crying as he screamed bubbles.

He thrashed harder than the first time, and she marveled at how strong he had gotten.

"Mama loves you...Mama loves you."

_III. The Tree_

_And if you fall..._

_Hold my hand_

_It's a long way down to the bottom of the river_

_Hold my hand,_

_It's a long way down, a long way down_

Tom found Merope first. The creak of the swinging rope was the only sound in the entire estate. Not even the birds dared to speak.

Her once beautiful face, the face that had looked at him with indifference, then love, and lastly, anger, was now black and blue. It was horrible to look at, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. He reached out and touched her foot, ripped and bloodied, and cried out in pain. He had never been a Seer, but he was suddenly assaulted by the vision of how _it_ happened -

\- _she sobbed and screamed, pulling at her hair and scratching up her arms, rocking back and forth, crying his name out again and again -_

_\- the rope at the end of the dock, coiled neatly, and she scampered up the tree, falling twice because of her sobbing -_

_\- she sat on the tree branch, the rope wrapped around her neck and the tree; she rocked back and forth, holding her knees -_

_"You'll get used to it."_

_"Mama loves you."_

_"Shh, shh, shh."_

_"We'll do it together."_

_"Hold my hand; it's a long way down."_

_\- she rocked backwards and fell._

_Her neck snapped, and she stared at the river -_

"Tom! Tommy!" he screamed and ran to the river.

Not both of them, Merlin, no. Not both of them -

His son's lifeless body floated at the edge of the bank. He could have been trying to look at the 'fishies,' like he had so many times, but Tom knew, even as he screamed his son's name and dragged him from the water, that he wasn't.

* * *

_So that was kind of sad. Leave me a review?_


End file.
